


Infinite Tenderness

by theprettiestbroom



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: BITWC AU, Blue is the Warmest Color, Clexa, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Smut, just a little i think maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:11:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprettiestbroom/pseuds/theprettiestbroom
Summary: "Instead of crying, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, waiting until something feels right. She waits a long time."A Blue is the Warmest Color AU with Clarke as Adele and Lexa as Emma. It sounds really sad because it is really sad tbh.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm posting the first piece of this, and I've got a portion of the second piece written, but I don't know when I'll post that. It partially depends on if people like this first piece or not. So let me know what's up.
> 
> As always, you can find me at: theprettiestbroom.tumblr.com  
> I made a companion playlist at: 8tracks.com/theprettiestbroom/adele

The bus is early again. Or maybe Clarke is always late, but she’ll never admit it. At least the brisk jog to the bus stop wakes her sluggish body up. She makes it to the bus just before the doors close her out.

During class, Clarke does her best to listen to her professor. She doesn’t like attempting to learn about techniques. She’d rather just pick up a pencil or paintbrush and have at it. Clarke is a fan of just tying up her hair and seeing what happens on the canvas when she opens her mind.

The professor is rambling on and on about something that Clarke doesn’t want to listen to, but she figures that she might as well. She’s paying to be here after all.  
It’s a lecture on perspective. Clarke stares forward and half pays attention. The professor calls on a few people to discuss a few different issues pertaining to the topic. Luckily, Clarke doesn’t get called on. She stares at the professor’s face and thinks about what she might want to paint next. She doodles on her notes for most of the class.

The only reason Clarke realizes that class time has ended is because the sound of everyone gathering their things shakes her out of her thoughts. She adds to the cacophony of backpacks zipping up and heads out of class to meet her friends for a food break between classes.

***

“You know Finn wants you, right?”

The voice comes from Clarke’s left—Octavia. The group of friends is sitting around a table near the quad on north campus. Everyone is pulling out their respective packed lunches and chatting quietly.

“Does he?” Clarke shrugs as she chomps on a few chips. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“At every party we go to, he stares at you the entire time.” Raven nods, backing up Octavia’s claims.

“I mean, he’s cute, I guess. He’s got the long hair thing going for him.” Clarke looks away. Just staring at anything she can so she doesn’t have to have this conversation. She doesn’t really care about Finn. She’s not sure that she cares about anyone. Not in a romantic way, at the very least. She loves her friends, just wishes that they wouldn’t pester Clarke about potential dates all the time.

“He’s really cute. You should give him a chance.” Harper pokes Clarke on the shoulder.

Raven laughs a bit and says under her breath, “If you don’t go for him, I will.”  
Making a sly face, Octavia finishes with, “I’ve also heard that he’s great in bed, and you’ve been seeming like you need that these days.”

Again, Clarke shrugs. She’s no stranger to sex. She’s dated a few guys here and there—had sex with a few more than that—but none of them ever stuck. She always lost interest, or they turned out to be different than her expectations. Different from what she wanted.

“Come on, you haven’t gotten laid in a while. Surely you’ve been craving it.”  
With a light shake of her head, Clarke says, “No, not really.” Contrary to her friends’ beliefs, Clarke doesn’t mind being on her own. Sex is nice, but she doesn’t need it; she doesn’t crave it.

With a small scoff, Octavia knocks her shoulder against Clarke’s. “You can be so out of this world sometimes, Clarke. Your obliviousness is cute.” They share a brief smile as Octavia throws an arm over her best friend’s shoulder.

After a few more minutes of hanging around and listening to Octavia and Raven’s background chatter, Clarke checks her watch and realizes that she needs to head off to class. With quick goodbyes to her friends, Clarke walks away, leaving behind a conversation that has her wondering if there’s something she’s missing within her.

***

She’s on her way to meet Finn when she sees her for the first time. It was quick—a brief pass on a busy, random street.

Clarke is attempting to cross a street downtown when she looks up and sees her. This woman—tall with dark hair and the most intense eyes she’s ever seen—is coming closer. Clarke has only taken a few steps into the street when she sees the woman. Her feet stutter, and she halts in her place. She can’t help but to stare at the woman. 

The tall brunette has her arm wrapped around another woman, who is charming in her own right, but doesn’t make Clarke’s breathing hitch like the sight of the other woman does.

Cars honk, which scares Clarke out of her trance. She finally resumes crossing the street after a cacophony of honks are aimed at her. She runs her hands through her hair, trying to gather herself. She’s never been this affected by a stranger before. Her breath is unsteady as she finally makes it to the other side of the street. Instinct takes over, and Clarke can’t help but to turn and hope to catch one last glimpse of the tall brunette. 

The brunette looks back too. Her face has a little confusion on it, but mostly interest.

After just a few fleeting moments, the crowd swallows the women, blocking their line of sight to each other. Clarke is rooted to the spot. She’s almost forgotten where she was going. It hardly seems like it matters anymore. 

Eventually, her feet remember how to walk again and her brain remembers the reason that she’s downtown. She walks for a few more minutes, the brunette still on her brain. Clarke wonders what her name is. If she goes to school or has job. If the girl she had her arm around is her girlfriend. 

Clarke wants to convince herself that the random woman isn’t important, but she feels wrong. This mystery woman is stuck in her brain.

***

“I’m sorry that I’m late. I just—I got caught up with something.” Luckily, Clarke is the only one that knows that ‘something’ in this case means being completely and mentally fucked up over a woman that she saw in passing for approximately five seconds. There’s no way that she can admit this out loud, especially not to the guy she’s going on a date with. That would probably be the fastest way to never see him again.

With a small shrug, Finn brushes off the apology. “No worries. It’s not a problem. I’m just glad you’re here.” An awkward pause ensues until he breaks it with a soft smile and a question. “How are you?”

“I’m alright.” Clarke nods toward him, taking a deep breath. “And you?”

He nods back. “Good. I’m good.”

A deep breath. “Great.”

***

“How was your date?”

As she chews on a bite of her sandwich, Clarke nods. When she swallows, she vocalizes her nod to Harper. “Good. It was fine.”

“You had sex, didn’t you?” Octavia wears a knowing smile and points at Clarke before reaching for her drink and taking a large gulp. “I can smell it on you.”

“No, we didn’t.” Clarke shakes her head and chops on a chip. “It never even came up.”

Raven laughs, “Yeah right! Finn Collins goes on a date with a hot girl and doesn’t even attempt to fuck her? I don’t believe that at all. Not for a second.”

Nodding, Octavia talks around the food in her mouth. “She’s right. Either you’re lying about the date going well or you’re lying about not having sex.”

Clarke just shakes her head and continues eating.

“Well?” Harper asks after too long of a pause, “Which is it?”

“Neither. We had a good time and also didn’t have sex.” Clarke shrugs. “Those two things can coexist.”

“Not really,” Harper replies, raising an eyebrow at the blonde.

Clarke just shrugs and quietly finishes her lunch. She doesn’t care for their prying, but she also doesn’t want to give into them and give them something to talk about. As Clarke’s friends continue to chatter and gossip around her, she gathers her trash and stands up, waving her goodbyes and making up an excuse to leave them earlier than she really has to. 

She finds a place to sit and sketch, wasting away her extra time with quick drawings. As she draws, her eyes cross a little and her brain zones out. When Clarke finally returns to Earth, she has 7 minutes to get to class and the vague outline of a woman with long curls on her paper.

***

On their second date, they have sex. 

Clarke lays there afterwards, her back to Finn. Neither of them speaks to the other. Clarke’s afraid that if she breaks the silence, she’ll realize that she regrets the whole night with him.

She doesn’t see herself staying with Finn for very long. The pair gets along relatively fine, but they don’t have much in common. Finn is cute and treats her fairly well, but Clarke is only vaguely attracted to him. She likes dick, but she can never stay in a relationship with the man behind it. Clarke knows in her heart that she doesn’t and likely never will love Finn.

“Was it that bad?”

Finn’s words break the trance of her thoughts. She doesn’t want to answer him. Ultimately, she doesn’t want to hurt him. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but she’s not satisfied in this relationship that they’ve started.

So instead, she turns her head toward him and presses a soft kiss to his scratchy cheek, running her hand along the unshaven prickles there. “It was great. I’m always like this after sex.” A lie, but one she feels compelled to tell.

When Finn nods softly against her back, she feels like crying. She wonders how much time she has to lay down with Finn before it’s socially acceptable to leave.  
Instead of crying, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, waiting until something feels right. She waits a long time.

***

When she gets back from Finn’s place, her roommates are asleep. It’s good that they’re already sleeping; otherwise they would want to know how the date and, by extension, how the sex went. 

The date was fine, she guesses. Finn wanted to make plans to see each other again, and she had reluctantly agreed. Clarke isn’t sure if she feels the same way about Finn as he seems to feel about her. She doesn’t mind their sex, but she’s not head over heels for him. With a yawn, she decides that it’s too late to be thinking about anything anymore, so she strips down to her underwear and climbs into bed. She falls asleep quickly.

***

The mystery woman is on top of her. The brunette knows what she’s doing, Clarke soon finds out. As the woman kisses down Clarke’s neck, a fire is lit within the blonde’s body.

Long, curly hair drags slowly over a puckered nipple as the mystery woman kisses further down Clarke’s body. All that can escape Clarke’s mouth is a few ragged breaths and one strangled, “Fuck.” Hands are running up and down her sides, occasionally scratching and squeezing, and Clarke is sure that she’ll explode. A few kisses are placed on her hips before the wild mass of dark hair slowly moves back up Clarke’s body. Finally flicking her hair off of her face, the woman looks into Clarke’s eyes before placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss in the dead center of her chest. 

The green eyes captivate Clarke so much that she almost misses the hand that’s running along the inside of her thigh. The hand rubs ever so gently against Clarke, and even this small action puts Clarke close to the edge. 

Clarke can feel her underwear being moved aside. She knows that she’s probably dripping at this point. She’s ready to be satisfied in a way that she wasn’t earlier with Finn. A finger runs along her wetness, and she can’t think about anything except how much she wants it. Her breathing hitches in anticipation, waiting for the woman to quit teasing her. 

Before Clarke knows it, there’s a finger inside her, and the rush of pleasure forces her into a sitting position.

Then she wakes up.

The woman from the street is nowhere to be found, and Clarke’s hand is down her own pants.

Clarke sits in her bed in stunned silence. Disbelief fills her mind as she removes her hand from her underwear. Soon enough, her breathing slows and sleep infiltrates her body. She doesn’t know how to feel about the dream she just had, so instead of thinking, she lays her head back down and goes to sleep.

***

They go on more dates and have more sex. 

Her friends think they’re the most attractive couple that they know. One time they said that she and Finn are the kind of couple that will stay together for a long time and maybe even get married. They even tease her about how she’s been acting so distant from the group since dating him because surely she’s been spending all of her time being with him.

Finn has never come inside Clarke’s house when he drops her off after a date. Clarke has never spent the night in Finn’s apartment after having sex with him.

Clarke isn’t happy.

***

“What’s wrong?”

Clarke looks up from her textbook and furrows her eyebrows at Monty. There was no preface to his question—no context. “What do you mean?” 

“You’ve been moping around for the past week. And even before then you didn’t seem particularly happy. So what’s wrong?” He gestures toward her with a pencil in his hand. “What’s going on with you?”

She shrugs and looks around. They’re the only two in the library except for one group of three sitting in the corner. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Bullshit.” 

He’s not taking no for an answer, it seems. They look at each other in a silent stare down in the middle of the quiet library. Only after a minuscule eyebrow raise from Monty does Clarke relent with a sigh.

“I don’t know.” She stares down at her art history textbook and fiddles with the pages, not actually reading anything. “I think it’s Finn.”

“Finn? What’s wrong with Finn?” Monty is obviously confused, but then a thought seems to jump into his head. “Did he hurt you? Because I swear to God, I will come for his ass.”

“No! Nothing like that! I’m fine. We’re fine. Well, we’re technically fine.”

“What does that even mean?”

Clarke rubs her temples as a sigh escapes from her mouth. “I don’t know, Monty.” After a pause to think, she says, “He’s a fine guy. Finn’s a good guy, really funny and charming. He takes me on dates that are pleasant, and we have a good time together, I guess.” She shrugs. “We have sex. But—and I don’t know why—I just don’t like him.”

This throws Monty for a loop. “You don’t like him? You’ve been dating him for almost a month.”

“No, trust me, I know. I’ve tried to like him because everyone says I should, but I really just don’t. If I stopped seeing him tomorrow, that would be okay with me. I don’t really care that much about our relationship.”

Monty reaches across the table and lays a hand on Clarke’s arm. “You know that’s okay, right? You don’t have to feel obligated to like someone just because other people think you’re a good match. If you don’t like him, you don’t like him. This even goes for sex. If you don’t like the way he has sex, or your libidos aren’t compatible, then it wasn’t meant to be. You don’t have to stay with someone because you don’t want to hurt their feelings, or because your friends will make a stink. Sometimes you just have to do what’s best for you, regardless of what anyone else.”

“What if everyone hates me after I break up with him?”

“No one will hate you, Clarke. They might be confused, but you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone if you don’t want to.”

She only nods in response.

“You have to be happy, Clarke.”

***

“I can’t see you anymore.”

They’re sitting on a bench on the prettiest part of campus. A part of Clarke had hoped that maybe the lush grass under their feet would soften the blow that she had just dealt. It doesn’t; that much is apparent on Finn’s face.

He turns his head away from Clarke and inhales sharply. She can hear him sniffle a little over the sounds of slow wind as he wipes his nose.

“I thought we were working out just fine.”

Clarke can’t look at him anymore. His crushed face is too much to handle. 

Everything she says feels like a lie. “We were.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Why are you leaving me?” His voice sounds so small, like an abandoned child.

Clarke doesn’t know what to tell him. She eventually settles for some version of the truth. “I just don’t feel anything special toward you. There’s no spark.”

“You feel indifferent toward me?” Finn sounds like Clarke has ripped his heart out.

If she didn’t know what to say before, she’s completely at a loss now. She shrugs. “I care about you in the sense that I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. But I don’t love you. I’m not in love with you.” 

Finn won’t even look at her as he shakes his head softly. He’s staring at the grass, and Clarke wonders what he’s thinking. She hears him swallow softly again. 

“Then I guess we were never on the same page.” There’s no anger in his statement, only truth. His low voice sounds like nothingness. He sounds like emptiness. 

She bites her lip. Clarke feels as empty as Finn’s voice as she watches him grab his bag and walk away, out of the garden and toward the heavy campus traffic.

***

All of her roommates are in their respective rooms, studying for their midterms, Clarke assumes as she walks through the front door. She drags her feet over the threshold, her bag falling off her shoulder. She doesn’t try to catch it as it falls to the floor. The slam of her books smacking the ground doesn’t faze her.

She walks dazedly to her room and barely manages to fully turn the doorknob before she falls through threshold, bumping into the door frame multiple times.

Her body feels empty, yet heavy at the same time. Clarke shrugs her jacket off her shoulders; it wasn’t keeping her warm anyways. She slowly peels off the rest of her clothes one by one and sits on the edge of the bed.

She doesn’t know what to do to feel better. Instead of trying, she stares blankly at the wall until her vision starts to blur. Suddenly the pale blue walls, which are dotted with various works—finished and unfinished—of Clarke’s, are just a swirl of lines and messy colors.

Her face feels hot and her throat has tightened. She knows what’s coming next. When the first tear splatters against her knuckle, the flood gates completely open. Clarke can’t stop the tears from flowing down her face. She loses it.

She hides her face in her hands, trying to force the salty tears back into her. She doesn’t even know why she cares in the first place. She shouldn’t feel bad for leaving Finn. They weren’t happy. She wasn’t happy.

He deserves someone who will be fully committed to him. Clarke can’t even fully commit to getting a cat, let alone another human. He’ll find someone that will be good for him—a better girl. She’ll never be good enough.

There’s always something wrong with her. She can never hold down a relationship because she always feels like something isn’t there. No matter how hard she tries, she’s never been able to figure out what isn’t clicking. At this rate, Clarke will never stay in a relationship that means anything. She’ll never know a complete love.

These are the thoughts that follow her as she cries herself to sleep.

***

“What are you doing out here by yourself?”

Clarke looks up from her phone to see Munroe standing in front of her. “Oh, nothing. Just had a few minutes to spare before going to class.”

Munroe gestures to the empty space next to Clarke on the bench. “Can I sit?”  
Clarke nods quickly. “Yes, of course.”

As Munroe takes a seat on the bench, she asks, “How’s your semester been going?”

“It’s been good. Fine.” Clarke nods. She and Munroe aren’t the best of friends, so she doesn’t know what else to say. “How about yours?”

“Not too bad. Science is hard.”

Giving a soft laugh, Clarke says, “I guess wouldn’t know about that, really. I’m more of an art and history kind of gal.”

During their brief pause, a girl walks past their bench and Munroe stares after her, nodding a little to herself.

“She was cute,” Munroe comments, still looking at the girl’s retreating silhouette.

With a quick glance at the random girl in her distance, she says. “Her? I didn’t see.”

“I noticed as she walked by. She’s got a cool quality to her, something a little mysterious. That’s definitely my type of girl.”

Clarke only nods slowly in response, because she doesn’t know what to say.  
“Don’t be jealous. You know you’re one of the prettiest girls on campus.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to do with the complement. She can feel the blush creeping up her cheeks, warming her face and chest. After she looks away for a minute, Clarke glances back toward Munroe and mummers a quick response.  
“I’m not jealous.”

“That’s because you know it. You know about your mystery and your unobtainable status. You know that you’re attractive. You know that everyone wants you, Clarke.”

These comments don’t make Clarke feel any less put on the spot. She still can’t look in the other girl’s direction. All she can squeeze out is a small thank you.

“I find you attractive. Even more than that girl.” Through the corner of her eye, Clarke can see Munroe gesture vaguely to the direction the random girl walked off in.

“Don’t blush.” Munroe’s voice is soft. “Look at me.”

Clarke hesitates. She isn’t sure what to do; she has a feeling that she knows what’s coming next, but she doesn’t know how she feels about it. Clarke has never been one to take risks, but she turns her head toward the other woman anyways.

She sees Munroe’s hand creeping toward her face, reaching out to cup Clarke’s cheek and pulling her face even closer, quickly closing the gap between them.  
The kiss is soft, but lasts longer than Clarke had expected it to. There’s no scratchy start of a beard poking her face. Munroe’s lips are smooth and pliable, not rough or chapped. There’s no tongue being shoved down her throat. Just many small, slow, beautiful, open-mouthed kisses.

She likes the feeling of them.

She knows she does. Clarke can feel her body starting to warm up, all the way down to her toes.

As soon as their lips break apart, the women look in different directions.

“I have to go to class.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t even recognize the hands sitting in her lap. She blinks a few times and settles on the first thing that sounds acceptable to say to the other woman.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you around, Clarke.”

For the second time in the past week, Clarke is left sitting on the bench all alone. 

***

The next day, Clarke sees her in a random building and makes a split second decision. As she sees the other girl walking down the hallway, Clarke falls in behind her. Soon they pass an empty classroom, and Clarke makes her move.

She reaches forward and grabs onto Munroe’s arm. After a short tug toward the open classroom door, the pair falls out of the crowd of people and into the slightly darkened room.

Munroe’s eyes show surprise at the situation, because she hadn’t even seen Clarke, let alone expected to be jumped from behind. More surprise gathers on her face as she watches Clarke slowly shut the door behind them with a click of the latch.

“Oh, hey, Clarke. What’s up?”

Clarke only stares at her. She doesn’t know how to respond to that question. What can she say? I’ve been thinking about your lips because those kisses in the garden were the best kisses I’ve ever had, and I don’t know what that means, but I know I want more of them? No. Hell no.

Instead of trying to piece together words that will make sense, she moves forward, pressing closer to Munroe, who’s leaning against one of the tables in the room. Clarke can’t take her eyes off of those pink lips.

For a few seconds, they only stare at each other. Munroe is wondering if Clarke will go through with it; Clarke has already made up her mind. She’s going to do it. She wants it. Craves it.

So she goes for it. She breaks the intensity of their connected gazes and steps forward, letting her hips bump into Munroe’s body. Clarke feels hot all over as she moves her face right up to Munroe’s and presses her lips against the lips that she’s been thinking about kissing all night.

Munroe lets it happen, even kisses her back for a second, but then she remembers where they are and who they are. She gently puts her hands on Clarke’s hips and guides her body away. There is obvious confusion and hurt in Clarke’s eyes as she takes a hard step back from the table.

With a heavy sigh, Munroe drags her hands off the other girl and pinches the bridge of her nose as she says, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you would get so hooked. Yesterday was just a heat of the moment decision—a test of your waters. I didn’t mean to tease you; I’m sorry.”

Clarke is shell shocked. She had been interested in this girl. This was the first time that Clarke had been truly interested in another person in a romantic way, and everything had meant nothing. A mistake in the garden. A careless accident.

“I won’t tell anyone.” With a wink, Munroe says, “That way you can keep up the mystery.”

Only a nod is able to escape Clarke.

Munroe stands awkwardly from her post on the table and rubs her face. “I’m sorry, I have to go to class.” She brushes past Clarke, her body lighting Clarke’s on fire from the brief touch.

She watches the door close behind Munroe. A soft click is the only noise that disturbs the room as Clarke stands completely still in the middle of the room.

She only leaves after a person pokes their head in the door and asks if she’s there for the psychology class. She shakes her head and decides that she can’t stay on campus anymore—her last class be damned.

As she walks across campus to where her car is parked, she passes her friends at their usual picnic table. They call out to her, but she doesn’t hear them. She keeps walking to her destination, only thinking about how amazing her bed is going to feel when she finally makes it home.

Monty is the only one of her friends that notices the look on her face. He knows that she’s not okay, so he jumps up from the table and runs over to her, knowing full and well that there will be several bites missing from his sandwich when he gets back.

“Hey!” He calls out to Clarke as he reaches out to touch her arm. She barely notices. He asks her what’s wrong as he pulls her to a stop, and they’re finally facing each other.

Clarke only shakes her head. She really doesn’t want to cry in front of him and everybody else around them on campus.

Monty sees that she’s about to break, so he pulls her into a hug and just nods his head. He may not know exactly what’s going on in her life, but her knows that what she needs right now is a friend and happiness, not a lecture.

“You’re going to be okay, Clarke. I promise.”

She shrugs in response.

“Trust me.” He pulls back from her body and reaches up to brush some hair out from around her face. “You need some fun. How about I take you out tonight?”

Clarke never goes out. She’s not really a fan of the whole bar scene, but she thinks that maybe a late night drinking and dancing is exactly what she needs.

With another small hug between the two, Clarke decides that she’ll go. She nods softly against Monty’s shoulder.

“Tonight will be a good night, Clarke. I promise.”

***

The bass is thumping under her feet. There’s a pop song that Clarke doesn’t care for blasting through the speakers. 

Monty leads Clarke through a mass of hot, sweaty boys. A lot of the guys that they pass smile at Monty and give him a friendly nod. It seems like he knows half the people in this place.

In the back of the club, they meet up with a small group of Monty’s friends, none of which Clarke has ever met before. All of them give Clarke a hug and a kiss on the cheek. The guys chat for a few minutes about people that she doesn’t know, so she zones out of the conversation. She instead looks around the club, analyzing the people there. She sees many different kinds of people. Boys with colored hair, boys with big muscles, boys that don’t look a day over 13, boys in button downs, boys in tiny shorts. All of them different, with one commonality—they all look like they belong. They all look comfortable in this club.

There are men kissing and dancing all around the club. Clarke stares in wonder at the whole place. She’s never seen this much open attraction and sensuality between people of the same gender in a public place before. She knew that Monty was taking her to a gay bar, but this isn’t quite what she was expecting. The other bars Clarke has been too were nothing like this. She’s only seen this much action between men in porn.

This space is not meant for her.

She vaguely hears Monty and his friends ask her if she’ll go dance with them. She looks toward the dance floor and sees a lot of bodies grinding on each other and eye fucking happening. Clarke can only shake her head in their direction, mumbling something about meeting them on the dance floor later.

Clarke needs some fresh air. She can’t be in this place anymore. She overwhelmed with the sight of men everywhere. She can smell them. She can feel every single one of them staring at her, surely wondering what the fuck a woman is doing in a bar for gay men. If they were to ask her why she was there, she honestly wouldn’t know what to tell them. Tonight, she won’t give them the chance to ask. 

As she pushes open the club’s door, cold air blasts into her face. Instantly all of the anxious feelings she had before dissipate. With every breath, she feels calmer—more in control of her body and thoughts. She stands outside for a few minutes, just letting the cold air infiltrate her lungs and push all the negative feelings out. She hopes Monty doesn’t go looking for her. She sends him a quick text just in case.

She finds a spot to lean against the metal railing that surrounds the front of the club. As she stares out into the street, she sees all sorts of different people. One of her favorite things to do is people watch. Looking at random people and sketching them out from memory later is one of Clarke’s favorite things to do. 

A group of girls pass her. They’re all in pairs, clinging to each other, holding hands, laughing, chatting. These girls look like they’re having fun, and she likes the way that they casually touch each other. Like touching is normal. Clarke can tell that they’re obviously couples; there’s no doubting that they’re into each other. They are all very attractive women.  
Clarke watches one girl kiss what may be her girlfriend on the cheek as the laugh their way down the street. That’s when she decides that she’s leaving. She wants to experience what they have. This apparent bond. So she follows them down the street to their destination—a bar that Clarke knows is the infamous lesbian bar.

She almost doesn’t go in. When she looks in the window and sees all the women grouped up, she wants to leave because she doesn’t want to be alone. Then she thinks about going back to Monty’s club, and realizes that this bar seems way less oppressive.

She pushes her way through the door.


End file.
